


Just walk beside me, love

by makesometime



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Episode Tag, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, episode 177 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:33:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27712763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: There's still so much unsaid and so much left undone....
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 31
Kudos: 98





	Just walk beside me, love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elvara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvara/gifts).



> SO. HOW WE DOING.
> 
> HOW. ARE. WE. DOING.
> 
> (Gifted to my dear friend because she allowed me to angst at her all day yesterday like a lovely, lovely person)

Zolf leads them back to the central building, for lack of anything clearer that needs to be done to get them out. At some point, his hand goes from around Wilde’s wrist to holding his hand, loose at first and then shooting the man a furtive glance before winding their fingers together.

Gods, why does _that_ feel like more of a confession than what he said?

 _I need you_ , _Wilde._

The bastard.

“Are you going to look this sour forever?” Wilde asks, quietly rubbing a thumb over the side of his hand. “I might change my mind while I still can.”

“Who’s to say I’m not going to change _my_ mind?” Zolf shoots back, because he’s _missed_ this, this verbal sparring partner, this absolute pain in his arse. “I could leave you right here.”

He looks up in time to see Wilde smirk and glance away from him. “Oh, but Zolf. You _need_ me. Isn’t that right?”

Zolf pushes through the door of the building with one hand, jerking hard on Oscar’s arm with the other because it’s easier than confronting the man’s too-young, too-pleased face and acknowledging that yes, he really went from threatening to drown Wilde in a bucket to wanting to give away his heart to the man.

When the tip of his boot hits the sand, Zolf jerks to a stop, staring at the empty space that two pairs of footprints originate from.

“Zolf?”

He turns. When he looks up at Wilde the man’s face is slowly starting to morph before his eyes into something more familiar, something less carefree, less youthful. It hurts, in its way. To see the weight of responsibility and too many years of hardship settle back in place.

It only reaffirms the promise he made not to let Wilde take all of the strain back on himself once more. It’s the least he can do, if the man is trusting him enough to lead the way back to life.

“Are you sure about this?”

Wilde smiles, painfully soft. He takes a breath and slowly kneels, wincing more for effect than anything else. This ethereal body of his is too young for any of that nonsense. “Am I sure that I would rather follow you back to a life of hardship with friends and loved ones than stay here in a peaceful but utterly barren world entirely alone?”

Zolf flushes, feeling the weight of that choice settle over his shoulders too. “Well. When you put it like that…”

His breath stutters when Wilde reaches up, delicate fingers spreading over the side of his face. “I’m sure.”

Zolf closes his eyes, leaning into the comforting press of Wilde’s hand. It doesn’t matter, really. That this isn’t _his_ Wilde. It’s still _Wilde_ and they’re together and they’re going to face whatever comes next side-by-side.

He hesitates in the sheer _pleasure_ of that barely a moment and feels the air change around them, the scent of the Ursans' incense hitting his nose, just as pungent as the first time.

“ _Zolf_.”

He opens his eyes and startles to find himself on his knees, in the same position as he’d been with Wilde’s… well. He feels a warmth beneath his touch and looks down to find his hand thoughtlessly carding through the soft plush fall of Wilde’s hair.

Which is now as white as his.

He smiles, eyes locking with the man staring up at him. Wilde moves his hand to his stomach, frowning at the chill caress of air to his exposed skin and then sits up, sharp enough for Zolf to tug his hand back in shock.

“Well.” He says, looking around the room. Not everyone else is back yet, but Cel and Sassraa are having a very close quiet conversation across the way. “It appears you have succeeded in dragging me back, Mr Smith.”

“Oh, give over.”

He shuffles over on tired knees, reaching back out for Wilde. He’s greedy for it now, for that human contact, for that thing he’s denied himself for too long before realising the cost. The man melts into the hand Zolf settles against his throat and sighs when Zolf leans in to press a gentle kiss to the middle of his forehead.

It’s perfect, tender. A stolen moment just for them before they have to face up to the reality of everything that awaits them.

“Is that all I deserve after your admission?”

Zolf frowns, leaning back and glaring down at the man. “What.”

Wilde grins, his bright eyes now showing some of that knowing sparkle that had been so missing from his younger self. Without saying anything, he lifts his hand up to the back of Zolf’s head and pulls, bringing their lips together.

It’s been… a while since he embraced someone this way, despite his increasing (and embarrassing) tendency towards little romantic fantasies when tucked up in his bunk at night on the Vengeance. He smiles, feeling Wilde’s warm lips quirk against his and inhaling sharply against the urge to deepen it, here, with everyone around.

When he pulls back, Wilde’s eyes are closed and his expression is satisfied for the first time in far too long.

“Zolf, I—.”

“I knew you were lying!” Cel calls from the other side of the room. They look so unfortunately smug when Zolf glances over that he feels the bottom drop out of his stomach. “I knew it!!”

Wilde’s fingers spread all lovely and possessive through his hair. “Lying, Zolf? About what?”

“Oh this is _not_ the time.” Zolf grumbles, getting to his feet and reaching out for Wilde’s hands to pull him up in turn. “You want to know so bad, ask Cel yourself.”

Wilde gives him one of those _looks_ , the kind that Zolf’s been able to dismiss before but has a striking sense that he’ll no longer be able to do…

“You know what, I think I just might.”


End file.
